


Obviously

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Season 13 Inspired [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x23, Bossy Castiel, Day At The Beach, Fluff, Flustered Dean, Hawaiian vacation, M/M, Ocean, Retirement, Sunscreen, beach, hawaiian shirts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Inspired by that leaked 13x23 scene...Dean gets his beach vacation. He's relaxing... up until Cas strolls in, demanding Dean do something he doesn't want to. But in the end, are the things you don't want to do worth doing if they lead to things you never dreamed of being able to do?





	Obviously

**Author's Note:**

> So just a little bit of fluff before the depression that'll follow the season finale... hope y'all enjoy!

            _Krrsch!_

            The sound of a fresh bottle of beer opening collided with the white noise of sapphire Hawaiian tides. Dean smiled, eyes hidden behind cheap dollar-store sunglasses, watching the blue expanse stretch out in front of him. He sunk deeper into his plastic chair, toes curling within the soft sand. As intense rays beat down harshly on him, he wiped away sweat that was collecting on his forehead.

            His gorgeous view, however, was interrupted by an oblong shaped bottle of sunscreen. Dean pulled his shades up; following the hand holding it up to the owner’s amused yet disgruntled face.

            “Dean,” Cas says, “Put this on.”

            Dean frowned, leaning back and re-setting his shades. “You’re not my mother.”

            “No,” his angel fires back, “But she told me if you don’t smear this on you’ll be sorry later.”

            “Ugh,” Dean groans, “Come on, Cas. Couldn’t you just… I don’t know? Mojo the sunburn away?”

            “I heal battle wounds,” Cas smirks, “ _Not_ sunburns.” He shakes the bottle a little, inching closer to Dean’s face. The former hunter snatches it with a snarled, “Fine.”

            Dean spreads some onto his hands and rubs it vigorously onto his cheeks, lathering up his nose with care and wiping the excess down his neck. He hands it back to Cas, who still looks unsatisfied.

            “What if you go into the water?” he asks, “Or fall asleep out here?”

            “Jesus – Cas, get off my ass, alright,” Dean grumbles, “I have a shirt on.”

            “A tacky one,” his angel points out, plucking at the similarly patterned fabric, “Why you made us wear these…”

            “Because it’s all a part of the fantasy Cas,” Dean raises his bottle, “Just like the luau and the hula girls were last night.”

            “Did the fantasy include most of the girls fawning over Sam?” Cas asks, causing Dean to choke on his sip. The former hunter thinks back to last night, how many of the grass-skirted dancers kept swaying over to Sam’s seat. By the end of the night, his brother was buried under flowers, with Dean joking how much he got ‘leid’. Those girls’ attention didn’t matter to him though, just there for the ambience. What mattered was that special part of the night when Dean helped Cas copy their motions, hands on hips for almost two songs.

            ‘ _That_ ,’ Dean thinks, ‘ _That was awesome_.’ “Maybe not,” he says, “But I mean, we need to throw Sam a bone every now and then. Kid deserves it. Speaking of,” he looks around, “Where is he?”

            “Last I saw he and Jack were on their way towards a surfing lesson,” Cas tells him, “Jack wanted to try, and Sam mentioned taking a few classes back in California… although if the skills remain is an answer we’ll need to wait to see.” Dean chuckles, already picturing Sam wiping out: landing headfirst into a sand dune, with his lower half sticking out.

            “Did you make sure _they_ had their sunscreen on?”

            “I didn’t have to,” Cas says coolly, “Because I _trust_ them.”

            “That hurts, Cas,” Dean mocks, hand thumping his heart, “You don’t trust me?”

            “When it comes to taking care of yourself?” Cas laughs, “I find it better to err on the side of caution. Now… are you going to put the rest on?”

            “You’re gonna have to do it, Cas,” Dean says, “I’m _retired_ – that means no more doing any work that I don’t want to.” He thinks that’s all that needs to be said on the matter, and lowers his guard. What he doesn’t expect is the firm but slippery hand to grab at his wrist. “What the – Cas?!?”

            His angel forcefully rubs the sunscreen onto his arm, practically dangling Dean over his seat. “You asked for me to do it,” Cas tells him, “So here we are.”

            Dean whimpers, “Here we are…” Cas finishes and moves on to the next arm, Dean barely putting up a protest. He stays quiet when his angel moves onto his legs, watching as Cas’s hands rub and down, dangerously getting closer and closer to his crotch. The former hunter wills away any blush, and focuses on some nearby tourists with farmer tans and bulging bellies to soften his crotch before Cas could notice. The distraction works, albeit too well – for he only reacts when the cold balm taps at his chest.

            Dean flings himself back, tumbling from his seat until he’s lying facedown on the sand. He looks up, where Cas barely contains his mirth. “Warn a guy will you?”

            “I asked you if you minded,” Cas walks around the upturned chair, “But you were silent… so I assumed…”

            “Still… I can sunblock my own chest!” Dean rasps, scandalized, his face as red as a crab.

            Cas raises a challenging eyebrow. “Will you?”

            He doesn’t take the bait, instead stuffing his face back into the sand. His angel moves to stand over him. “Would you rather I start with your back first?”

            And with that Dean’s penis stands at attention. Shifting uncomfortably, Dean mutters weakly. His pride berates him, orders him to stand up, snatch the wretched bottle from Cas’s hand and toss it into the ocean – that way they can never speak of this again. But the little demon resting on his shoulder squeezes at his heart, forcing out a quiet “Sure” from within. His arms are jelly, letting Cas easily peel the material and toss it on the chair.

            “Now stay still,” Cas says, kneeling beside him, “I think we both don’t want a repeat of earlier.” With that, he places both hands on Dean’s back and kneads. Dean bites back a groan at Cas’s touch, preferring the sand in his mouth.

            ‘ _Rather die from suffocation than embarrassment…’_

            “I didn’t know your freckles went this far down, Dean,” Cas mentions, hands at his lower back, “I thought they just stopped at your face.”

            Dean cranes his head to the side. “Didn’t you rebuild me piece by piece?”

            His angel blushes, “Your soul yes… but freckles don’t exist in that form.”

            “Oh.”

            Silence, filled with the extraneous sounds accustomed at a beach. Dean chooses to ignore this, instead focusing on the soft grunts Cas makes with each rub. How the sunscreen squeaks against his skin. The panicked hum of his heart.

            “You know,” Dean’s traitorous voice says before he can realize, “It’d probably be easier if you straddled me.” Cas pauses, fingers tightening into Dean’s skin. “Shit,” Dean breathes, “Sorry I didn’t –“

            “No, I mean,” Cas cuts him off, “you surprised me is all. Are you… are you okay with that?”

            ‘ _Am I?_ ’ Dean is more than okay to have Cas straddle him. But his angel… an unreadable creature that’s vexed Dean the moment he stepped foot into that barn all those years ago. Armed with an impenetrable mask that he hasn’t come close to cracking. His angel’s composure is a force to reckon with, and can’t be shaken by the strongest of storms. Whereas even the simplest of touches from his angel sends Dean down a rabbit hole, flustered more than a virgin on their wedding night.

            Although from the start of their retirement, any objection Cas had was few and far between. Comforting Dean in the airplane – Jack’s suggestion, wanting to travel like a human. Taking pictures together, sending them to Claire whenever he could. Even now, Cas could be anywhere but chooses to spend his time with _him_. Taking care of him.

            ‘ _I’m retired,_ ’ he thinks, ‘ _I deserve it._ ’

            “Sure,” Dean says, finally relaxing into Cas’s touch, “Wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t.” Cas hums, the sound sending a trickle of anxiety up and down Dean’s spine. However, it’s soon squashed by his angel’s weight as he places both legs on either side of him.

            “You know,” Cas tells him, rubbing at his shoulders, “I ran out of sun screen a few minutes ago.”

            “Figured as much,” Dean sighs, “But this is nice.”

            “It is.”

            “Hey Cas,” Dean starts, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of his angel, glowing in the sunlight, “You wanna go take a walk on the beach?”

            He chuckles, “Dean, all we’ve _been_ doing is walk on beaches.”

            “Not this one,” Dean continues, stretching underneath, pushing his ass up into the vee of Cas’s crotch, “I’m talking about this other one we passed a few miles ago. You know… the one that’s _clothing optional_ …”

            There’s some response – but Dean’s not sure if it’s from the suggestion or his action. Instead of guessing the motivator of Cas’s bulge, Dean turns back to his angel, who stares at the bottle in his hand.

            “Cas…?”

            “We’re going to need more sunscreen.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this provides enough good energy to help you readers make it through the finale!


End file.
